If She Had Chosen Me
by TeenWriterKimba
Summary: What if your life did not flash before your eyes before death, but rather, another life? A life you might have had if you had just made different choices. A life you might have chosen, had you just been brave enough. AU Severus Snape/Lily Evans.
1. This Step Is Once Again Our First

Why do I now write all of my stories at 2 A.M? Regardless, this story is complete, so all the chapters should be posted shorty. I still own nothing.

Chapter One-This Step is Once Again Our First

Some say that just before you die, your life flashes before you eyes. You see all of the vital moments of your life in stark contrast just as the end is nearing. All of your greatest triumphs. All of your biggest regrets. Everything that was ever important to you and no longer is. I never believed such hogwash.

Death, I always assumed, was meant to be just as miserable as life. Most likely painfully sharp and probably quite cold. It would seem to last an eternity, but would also end far too quickly. Everything did. Life sucks and then you die, as put by some god-awful writer. Although I would never put it in such a way, I was generally inclined to agree. After my miserable existence and my terrible choices, I had no hope that there was anything good waiting for me afterwards.

And I was correct. My life did not flash before my eyes when I died. But something entirely other did.

* * *

Five words. Five words that had haunted me since the day, since every day, that she and I had made the fatal choices that led her away from me and me away from the light. _If she had chosen me_. If only. Perhaps this was that world. Perhaps it was another world. Perhaps it was my true world.

* * *

A moment under the tree. Our tree. She is a child still. "I'm a freak, I think," she says, looking at the water like this is a casual statement. It is quiet. It is scared. Magic still makes her skittish. She feels she sticks out from this ho-hum world of ours. And those who stick out are outcast and hated before they even understand what is happening.

I pretend, for a moment, that I am brave. That I sweep her off her feet and kiss her senseless, that I am the hero from the adventure novels I like so much. Alas, I am only ten. And yet, I pretend so hard that I surprise myself and almost against my will my hand finds hers. "You could never be a freak," I say quietly-intensely, I like to think. "You're far too special…" _to me_.

She smiles the smile that makes my insides melt and flutter a little. She squeezes my hand and I'm flying…

* * *

I'm under a hat. It is whispering things to be. _Your ambition is strong…your rage is passionate…you will be very successful if you learn to channel your talents…and with the right connections…._

I am barely listening. She is smiling at me from the Gryffindor table. She mouths '_You'll be fine_' and shoots me a little thumbs up from under the table. A boy across the table tries to catch her attention, and succeeds. She looks annoyed at the moment, but for how long? My blood sizzles. I find myself interrupting the hat. _PUT ME WITH HER!_ My words echo in the sudden silence in my head. The hat, which appeared to have just made up its mind, pauses, its mouth partway open.

_Ah…so you have already found a direction for your passionate nature…your loyalty moves me. I shall leave it in your hands. You could do great things in Slytherin house…you could change our world, go down in wizarding history, if you play your cards right. Or you could go with her and make your own fate. It is up to you now…_

It isn't even really a thought. Despite the hat's words, I hardly even think it should qualify as a choice. Eternal glory would sway me at any other place or time. But without her, it would be worth nothing to me. I wonder if this is what real bravery is. Choosing to make your own destiny, rather than just accepting the one intended for you. _ Her. Just put me with her_. I can almost feel the hat smirking above me. _As you wish_.

"GRYFFINDOR!" The table is cheering, despite the suspicion on some of their faces. They see the darkness inside of me. The boy is glaring at me, elbowing his cronies. I have chosen a difficult fate. But she is cheering the loudest of all and nothing else matters as I take my place next to her…

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	2. Part Of The Human Heart

Two chapters in two days? Unheard of! Not sure if all of them will be up this fast but I'll try. I don't own anything blah blah.

Chapter Two-Part of the Human Heart

I am awkward, even in this new world. I've never been what one would call social, and the gregarious nature of my fellow Gryffindors does not do much to bring me out of my shell. Some of them even hate me. For one reason or another, James Potter and his gang have made me their personal vendetta. I imagine that if I had been sorted in Slytherin, I would have lived in constant fear, and would have isolated myself tighter in my rage against them and my friendless world.

But here I have her. And she keeps me safe. They don't dare touch me for fear of angering her. She earns herself a bit of scorn for protecting me, the eternal outcast. But most just find her braver for it. Little by little, she brings me into this world of hers, this world of acceptance. She lets me grasp her hand for strength as she introduces me to her loud and enthusiastic friends. They probably think I am her boyfriend but she tells me she doesn't care what people think. I admire her strength. She makes me want to be a better man than I am. I try my hardest to live up to the way I know she sees me. The way I want to be seen. I am not always liked, but I am at least tolerated by most. And always she is there, giving me silent strength just when I think mine will fail…

Things improve with time. My anti-social tendencies fade into a sort of quiet friendliness. My outcast nature is all but forgotten, at least while I am at school. I have those I can count as friends. And she is at the center of it all. She is at the center of everything. I would be nothing without her. Sometimes I still feel the anger welling up inside me, when I see Potter picking on some first year Slytherin or (rather ashamedly) when I see some older boy flirting with her. But then she'll smile at me or touch my arm as she passes and it fades into nonexistence. I can't imagine how awful my existence would be without her to keep me grounded.

* * *

The stolen moments begin on the train ride of our fifth year. We have a car alone together, just like first year. I don't know where her friends (our friends, I have to remind myself) have gotten. Ever since second year her car has been so mobbed that I, who get on _with_ her sometimes have trouble finding a spot. I comment on this fact, mildly as if it was the weather, but her smile (smirk, really) makes me wonder if I haven't said something dirty by mistake. I suddenly feel very warm and she seems much closer to me than she was moments before.

With a snap of her fingers (when did she learn wand less magic?) the blinds close and the door locks. I barely have time to gulp before she is mine. Despite her smirk, her first kiss is gentle, chaste, a question. I hope my answer is good enough. The way she crawls into my lap (straddles my lap!) makes me think that it probably was. She tastes of beauty and light and lilies. I don't even know what those things taste like but somehow I know that it is so. I don't remember much else of that train ride. Everything is blurry. The green countryside rushing by mixes with the soft green glow of her eyes. I hope to God that her future children (_our_ future children, my foolish adolescent mind dares to hope) will share those luminescent orbs. Her hands set me on fire and I am glad to burn. A flash comes to me. Another sort of burning. Wand on flesh, branding a mark of darkness. I shake it away. The tattoo some of the older Slytherins have been sporting. Why in the world was I thinking of that at a time like this?

I explore parts of her I had never even dared to dream about before that day. Whatever else she is, she certainly is brave, and she most definitely does not take no for an answer. Any vestige of boyhood that had somehow survived my god-awful childhood is burned away in the cleansing fire of her awakened passion. _For me_. I profusely thank whatever gods or karma have somehow decided to bestow on me this gift.

After we are done (_I_ am done, the damn vixen could have gone for hours), I hold her close and she whispers secrets to me, things she says she has never told anyone. How her parents shunned her, sometimes even beat her when she unwittingly showed her magic as a kid. How ruthlessly her sister had hated her and guilted her for being the special one. How hopelessly she had longed for acceptance and how happy she had felt the day she first found it in me. How long she had loved me. Longed for me. I feel somehow even more honored by this trust than I am by the gift of her passion moments before.

When the train finally pulls in and we are disentangled, we are, of course, greeted by the catcalls and backslapping of our group of friends who were, of course, waiting just outside our car (she planned it before hand, the little minx!). Normally, I would feel uncomfortable and awkward about the whole thing. I might even feel betrayed, and suspect that she had set the whole thing up as a prank. But when I look into her eyes, laughing and smiling, and see that they are only for me, I can't help but believe. So I throw my arm around her and laugh with all the rest. I wonder if this is what flying feels like. But they are lurking in the back, envious of my good fortune and happiness…

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	3. Woe Is Me

Another update? Yep, you're not seeing things! In any case, this chapter is definitely darker and unfortunately it only gets worse before it gets better. But fear not, the light is fast approaching!

Chapter Three-Woe Is Me

More stolen moments, becoming more frequent with time, pass between then and our OWLs When I see her in the halls or in the common room, I can hardly keep myself from touching her, making sure that she is real and that this is not a dream. But always she welcomes my light touch on her shoulder or arm (or hip, if I feel especially daring) and always I am reassured. I worry that this is far too perfect to be my real life. I worry that one day I would royally screw it up and I will lose her, the only thing that has ever mattered to me. On the fifth day of our OWLs I certainly give it a good try.

In the rush of teenagers leaving the great hall after the exam, I lose sight of her, a rare feat for me. As much as I would love nothing more than to track her down and see if she's up for a little celebratory snog, the lovely day outside is calling me, and I figure that taking a stroll down by the lake is as good a way to find her as any. I assume there will be a friendly face or two waiting for me beyond the doors, but even if there is not, I wouldn't particularly mind some peaceful solitude to go over my exam. The gregarious Gryffindor nature hasn't rubbed off on me quite so much just yet. About halfway around the great depths, I find a nice shady patch of shrubbery and settle into the sun. I enjoy the afternoon for a few minutes, soaking up the rays, when I begin to get an awful feeling that I'm being watched. Darkly.

Sure enough, directly beneath a nearby tree are Potter and his gang, watching me like hawks. I try not to feel too much like a lame mouse as I attempt to casually glance around for an ally, or better yet, my savoir. There is no one, or at least, no one helpful. A gaggle of silly younger Gryffindor girls are giggling by the lake, sneaking glances at Potter and Black through their eyelashes. Some stuck up Ravenclaws are arguing about a test answer not far down the shore. A couple Slytherins are lurking under some shadowy trees. No one who's going to come to my rescue. I sneak my hand subtly to my wand pocket as I stand, hoping to make a quick getaway. Hopefully they'll just assume that my friends are close by and leave me-

" Hey _Snivellus!_" Black shouts at me. No such luck today. I try to react, get in the first curse but they get my wand off me in nothing flat. I am on the ground, immobile, before I can even make a grab for it. I keep struggling anyway, shouting various obscenities at them in between attempts at the wand less magic she's been working on with me. Nothing is working and now my mouth tastes like soap and a crowd is forming (and doing nothing!) and I'm so furious I can't see straight. The world is nothing but red and I would like nothing more than to kill Potter and all the rest or disappear into the ground, or both simultaneously, if possible. But someone is shouting at Potter from the crowd, distracting the jerk long enough for me to get a grip on my wand. As I shoot a curse at Potter's pretty boy face, my brain just barely registers that it's her. It's hard to tell, or care, through all the red. Why isn't she just cursing Potter already? Does she secretly like him more? Was her supposed love for me just one more ploy in Potter's game?

None of my thoughts make sense, but the rage coursing through my veins barely gives me time to process. It doesn't help that before I can even stand up I find himself upside down, my underpants out for the entire world to see. Damn her for convincing me this morning that it was warm enough to go without! Her little whispers about 'easier access' be damned, I am now certain she is in on this trickery. She is the enemy just as much as them.

She is shouting again, and then I am slammed into the ground, my ears ringing as the wind is knocked out of me. I try to stand, to fight like a man, but my limbs are frozen and the ground is rising up to meet me once again, likely near breaking my nose in the process. And then I can do nothing but listen to her damn near bantering with him, cringing and writhing internally as the arrogant bastard actually has the audacity to ask her out. _Mine._ She is _mine_. She is the one thing Potter can never take away from me. I chose this destiny and I will be damned before I let it go without a fight. Just as I have made this decision, I hear Potter's words newest insult loud and clear.

"C'mon, Evans. Would you rather go out with a real man, or just fuck around with some slimy git who can't even wash his underpants? I mean, as I see it, choosing him over me either means he's paying you something good or you're more of a slut than I thought you were." Something in me snaps. Magic I didn't realize I was capable of washes over me and I am suddenly unfrozen. I barely have time to take in that this is my first true wand less magic before I find myself charging at Potter, consequences be damned.

In my wild tackle, I manage to knock Potter's wand away and actually get in a few good blows to his suddenly not so pretty face before Black has me upside down again. I just barely have time to take satisfaction in the fact that Potter is still moaning in pain on the ground before a wracking pain takes over my own body. It isn't quite _crucio_ level pain (which my father made sure I knew quite well), but whatever curse Black cast it's certainly strong. It takes all of my strength just to keep from screaming. And then it's over.

As I weakly raise my head, I see Lupin holding Black's arm and shaking his head. He and Pettigrew get Potter under the arms and drag him off towards the castle. The crowd begins to disperse, although a few linger as she rushes towards me. I am pretty sure the current sparkle in her eyes is from tears, but I am far too angry and burned out to care about anything but my embarrassment and betrayal. She kneels next to me and immediately places her hand on my cheek. I knock it away, angered by her apparent regret now, long after it could have done any good. The red has yet to fade from my vision, and she looks about as good a target as any.

"What the fuck was that?" I say through teeth still gritted from the pain. Somehow it still comes out far louder than I had intended and she flinches away from me. The disinterested crowd quickly snaps to attention, although I am far from caring. "Why didn't you actually fucking help me rather than just flirting with your precious Potter?"

The look on her face is absolutely flabbergasted, but quickly turns to anger. "Don't you dare accuse me of doing nothing! Did you not hear me defending you? If you didn't notice, there were four of them and only one of me! I was trying to talk them down and distract them so you could get your feet under you and we could take them down together," she says, trying to explain as calmly as she can. I am not having it right now.

"Oh, well then I suppose I owe you a fucking thank you, because your witty banter clearly helped me from getting beat up, cursed, and pantsed in front of the entire school! But I suppose that was all part of the little plan you and your boyfriend Potter and his friends came up with, right? Don't pretend like you weren't in on it!" I nearly shout. Now there really are tears streaming down her face.

"How could you possibly think that of me? I love you," she whispers, her voice breaking.

Some rational part of my brain is screaming at me to stop but I am too hurt, too far gone. "Take your fucking love to someone else. I'm sure you've got plenty of options. Potter's right; you're nothing but a filthy mudblood slut," I say harshly, looking away. Her slap reawakens the curse still coursing through my veins and jars my whole world. But more importantly, it jars me out of my anger. Even as I realize what a horrible mistake I have made, she is already up and nearly halfway across the lawn. I can do nothing but lay there dumbly as the crowd disperses in disgust to discuss the painful defeat and harsh breakup they have just witnessed. I feel cold and empty. I wonder if this is what death feels like…

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	4. I Die Without You

So I guess that whole 'update every night' thing failed. Sorry for the wait. This is the second to last chapter, and stuff is definitely still heavy. WARNING: If you are bothered by mentions of suicide or suicidal talk, do not read this chapter. Also, I own nothing.

Chapter Four-I Die Without You

Two months, two weeks and two days she does not speak to me. It is the most horrendous time of my life thus far and I begin to fear that it may last forever. It is worse than all of the beatings I faced as a child. It is worse than all of the isolation I have felt in my primary school days. I feel my life tearing at the edges even as I hold myself tighter and tighter, curling back up into my ball of anti-social tendencies and isolation. My friends at school begin to shun me. The torment at the hands of Potter and his friends increases. I see her with him more often than ever before. I feel blank and hopeless and dead as I ride home in an empty train car for the very first time.

My parents, rarely perceptive of anything about my life, are concerned about my behavior. I feel like I cannot go to any of my usual haunts for fear that she will be there, or that I will go mad from the reminders of her. Even my own room reminds me too much of her. I spend the vast majority of my time hiding in the basement, sometimes with a book, usually with nothing at all. Only then, in near absolute darkness, with only a dim flashlight for company, can I sometimes forget the mess I have created for myself. I rarely find myself with an appetite and peaceful sleep comes even more rarely. Every time I close my eyes, I see her face, tears of hurt and betrayal washing down it, cleansing her of me. Every time I look out the window, I see her running through the trees and grass, daring me to catch her. Every time I lay down in bed at night, I imagine the nights we spent together, both as children and as lovers. All of it gone. All of it lost to a few angry words.

Her family goes away in August. I venture out into the world a little more, at my mother's insistence, but I still feel lost. Our world is hollow and empty with only me to fill it. But still I find myself drawn to our spots and all the happy memories that go with them. I sleep outside under our tree for a whole week before my mother makes me come back home. I cannot escape from my grief and regret. It consumes me. On the last night of August, I sit under the tree with a long string of sturdy rope that I have nicked from my father's workshop. He will be very angry when he sees it is gone. But it does not matter. It has been two months, two weeks, and two days too many. I will be gone soon too.

I am so intent upon my inspection of the trees limbs, wondering which will be sturdy enough to hold my weight, that I do not hear the stones crunching underfoot or even the small intake of breath as she approaches me. Only when she abruptly sits next do me am I startled enough to notice. "Hey," she says quietly. She is not looking at me. She sounds very far away.

At first I do not say anything. I simply do not believe that it is real. That she is real. The manifestation of my conscience perhaps, or a hallucination brought about by the closeness of death is far easier to believe. But then her hand lightly grazes mine over the rope and I know that she has come. Now that I look at her, really look at her, I realize just how much the last two months have affected her as well and that finally makes me believe. Her skin is far too pale, her eyes too dim, yet also glistening, as they always are. She is crying again. I once vowed, after a bully teased her at school, to never allow anyone else to make her cry. Now I cannot even see her without causing those same tears.

She speaks calmly, but the rough quality of her voice betrays the cracks so close to the surface. "Your father noticed a rope was missing from his stores. Knowing how you've been lately, your mother was in quite a state. She had no idea where even to begin looking, and she begged me to find you before it was too late. I knew I would find you here…" her voice finally breaks entirely, barely restrained sobs catching at her throat. "But I was so afraid that…that you'd be…that I'd find you…you…up…up there…"

Her hands now cover her face as she finishes her struggle to say her piece. I do not know what to say. I feel like I may burn up from the shame and guilt that I feel. How could I ever imagine abandoning her like a coward, whatever she thinks of me now? I throw the rope into the water in disgust, not caring about what my father will say or do to me later. I do not dare to touch her yet—I do not deserve to touch her yet—but I hope the sight will bring her some comfort and reassurance.

We sit for a very long time in silence, with only her quiet tears to break the still night. Finally, it becomes clear to both of us that she has no more tears to cry. And, for the life of me, I still do not know what to say. There is no magic word to make everything better, but I cannot even fathom where to begin. I do not have any experience rebuilding a structure that has been so thoroughly annihilated.

She stands. "You should get home. I'll tell them what happened. But they'll still be worried," she says roughly. She has lost hope in me and I do not know how to make her believe again. One step. Two steps. Too many steps. I cannot let her go. I chose this destiny. I will not lose it now because of my cowardice and shame.

"Lily, wait!" I shout, turning to her abruptly. She has covered much ground, but not too much. Slowly, she turns back to face me. More tears stream down her face, but there is more to the shining in her eyes. I do not have it in me to dare to believe it is hope. "I…I'm so sorry." It is nothing. It is entirely insignificant. It does not even begin to express the bottomless depths of my regret. But it is enough to start.

She does not rush towards me now, but she does return. We talk long into the night. It is nearly dawn by the time we make it home. It is painful and difficult and nothing is entirely forgiven, but it is a start. She takes my hand in hers as we make the long journey home.

Just before the door to my house opens and I have to face the consequences of even more poor decisions, she leans in and whispers in my ear, so close that her breath from each word makes me shiver. "Whatever you have done, whatever you will ever do, however terrible, horrible, and idiotic, I could not live in a world without you. I could never stop loving you and my world would never be whole again. Please think about that next time you decide to do something utterly stupid," she says, partially in jest but also with intense severity. Her words are steely, but my heart still finds reason to flutter a little, still finds reason to hope. Then, hand still in mine, she kisses me lightly on the cheek and is gone.

It is a very long time before everything is repaired. But it is, eventually, repaired. By the time two more months have passed, I can call her a friend once more. By the time a year has passed, she is mine again. It is our very first and probably the largest bump a relationship could possibly have, but I have nothing stronger in me than my love for her. I did not know that one person could both make you fly and keep you grounded in the same breath. She is my world. And for reasons I cannot fathom, I am hers. She is worth every trial I will ever face, just to see her smile and know it is mine…

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	5. We All Lead Such Elaborate Lives

This is the end, kiddies. Sorry it was so long in coming. I hope you enjoyed the ride :) I don't own them and I don't claim to.

Chapter Five-We All Lead Such Elaborate Lives

Another moment under the tree. Our tree. Two years have passed. It is beautifully blossoming flowers now, all thoughts of ropes forgotten. It is a warm summers evening and I have a box in my pocket that is nearly burning a hole in it. The evening is almost too perfect, almost as if magic had a hand in creating it (which it may have—better to conjure fireflies than bet on their appearance). She is wearing the most beautiful summer dress and I do not think I have ever seen her look more stunning.

"This is the most lovely picnic, darling. But whatever is the occasion?" she asks curiously, gazing out at the water. When her gaze returns to my face, I can feel the smile nearly splitting it in two. I have never been as happy and yet utterly as nervous as I am in this moment.

"I…I have something extra special for you tonight," I say, fumbling as my hand reaches for it. Her head tilts to the side, as it sometimes does when she is considering a difficult question that she is so close to solving. When I finally manage to pull it out, she lets out a small gasp and her eyes begin to sparkle once again. This time, I pray it is from happiness. I have not broken my vow since that night, but I have never before feared her reaction as much as I do in this moment. "My dearest…I have loved you since the first day I met you under this very tree. Words can never describe just how much you have meant to me over the years. And now…I hope that will you do me the utmost honor…of becoming my wife?"

She nearly tackles me in her hug, laughing through her sobs as she accepts. I am truly flying now, high above the trees, and always with her by my side…

* * *

Many more of our moments together happen in the shade of that tree.

We hold our small, intimate wedding ceremony there not long after. She has woven several of its whitest flowers into her beautiful hair. They must be charmed, for they remain there long into the night, our first night together as man and wife. I feel like a child again. She is well and truly mine now. And I will never give her up.

It is the first place we take our first child to play, a charming little boy with her eyes, just as I had hoped. I never liked children but he steals my heart from the moment I set eyes on him. We love him so and would give the world for him.

It is often here that we receive the news, by owl or messenger, of how the dark lord is rising in power and many fear there may soon be a war. I begin working as the potions master at Hogwarts, and I am approached by none other than the headmaster himself about joining some sort of order rising in resistance. She is approached as well, but we do not join for fear of our child.

It is here that we first receive news of the death of James Potter and his wife, and the defeat of the Dark Lord supposedly by their infant son. I shiver, for some reason relieved that it was not her.

It is here that our now teenaged son and younger daughter approach us and tell us they want to join this resistance, and fight alongside this 'savior '. Although we do not like it, we can no longer keep our quiet little family out of the coming conflict. The war following his second coming is long and hard.

I bring her here after the battle of Hogwarts, where she is hit with some sort of curse that drains her magic and leaves her constantly weak and fatigued. Ever day I must watch her grow frailer before my eyes. I work nearly around the clock to find a cure for her, slaving over cauldrons and recipe books but she is fading away from me. I find success not a moment too soon. I stumble out to our tree with it only to find her unconscious. I am panicking, sobbing, praying that I am not too late. She is still for many long minutes after I get the potion into her. Finally, finally, her eyelids flutter and she comes back to me. We hold each other and sob for a long time that afternoon.

We play with our grandchildren there. We grow old together there. Finally, one night, she very peacefully breathes her last in that same spot, and I go within minutes, not wanting to be without her for too long. Death is just as peaceful and joyful as life was, a celebration of all that we have shared and all that we have created. It ends with a gentle fade, like the ending of a dream…

* * *

The curse aimed at me hits and I am surrounded by blackness. I am frightened and alone and empty once again. A whole other life, lived in an instant and gone in another. What could have been. _If she had chosen me_. But alas, I think to myself, my life and death are meant to be dark and cold. Monsters like me do not get happy endings.

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There is a light. I do not know how long I have been where I am. Time has lost its meaning. There is nothing. But now there is light. I move towards it. What else can I do? Good or bad, it certainly will be better than nothingness, emptiness.

A shape is forming in the light. Almost human, but fuzzier and indistinct. It is glowing. She is glowing. For it is she. It could not have been anyone else. And she is smiling her most beautiful smile, the one that always made my insides melt and flutter as a child. The regret stabs at me sharply, but she gently shakes her head.

"None of that now," she says, her smile compelling me forward. "There is nothing but peace where we are going."

Her hand reaches for mine and she leads me away, on.

"But…but where are we going?" I ask, uncertain of the light after so much darkness.

"I'm bringing you home, Severus," she says, her eyes sparkling as they do in my memory. In both memories. She squeezes me hand and my heart finds the strength to hope once more as we set off on yet another journey together.

I chose my fate once. I can do it again. There will be no more _if. _


End file.
